


Smells Like Freedom

by JayRain



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Post-Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5566558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayRain/pseuds/JayRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders may be exchanging one life of enslavement for another, but for this one brief window of opportunity, he's totally free to enjoy the sights, sounds, feelings, and smells of life free from the Circle.  Sure, the Joining might kill him, but at least he'll have this one late afternoon to experience freedom.  A gift for Mosomacilany for the DA Fanfiction Writers Secret Santa story exchange!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells Like Freedom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mosomacilany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosomacilany/gifts).



_Smells Like Freedom_

 

            Pine. Sharp, slightly sweet pine. It was a scent Anders would never forget nor ever tire of. Moist earth squishing beneath his boots, releasing the smell of dirt and rain and snow. Cold air sharp in his nose, cutting his sinuses with freshness. It’s a far cry from damp stone and the scent of darkness that lingers in the halls of Kinloch Hold. Of everything he missed whenever he was brought back to the Circle, Anders missed the smells the most.           

            But now he stood beyond the walls of Vigil’s Keep, on a hillock that would nearly overlook the sea if the winter fog would ever lift. He’d smelled the sea once before, in Denerim, but it wasn’t like this. Then, it was rotting seaweed and moldy nets, unwashed sailors and drying fish. This was salt and freshness. This was the unlimited expanse of the ocean. This was possibility and newness and freedom.

            Pine. Salt. Mud. It all smelled of freedom.

            Anders wanted to fall back into the mud and soak in the cold and damp, the kind of feeling that would seep into his bones and chill him to the core as the fog beaded on his upper lip and caught in his hair and eyelashes. In the past he would have, too. But he had to remind himself that now there wasn’t the same frantic need to soak in every experience he could, or to cling desperately to every sensation. There would not be any more solitary confinement during which he would call up these memories and rely on these sensations to carry him through.

            The Joining ceremony was tonight. He’d been warned that it could be fatal. That he was exchanging one life of slavery for another. But Anders didn’t care; he’d sworn to himself long ago that he would never die in the Circle. So far he’d done a decent enough job of staying alive, and if his Joining the Grey Wardens proved fatal, it would be worth it, if only because he had escaped the clutches of the Circle and the Chantry.

            That was why he was here, standing in the cold mist, smelling the pine and sea salt and cold. He needed to replace the lingering odor of dankness in his nostrils. He needed to smell something other than the rotting fishy smell of Lake Calenhad. He needed to smell the cold when he was calm and at peace, not when he was running headlong into uncertainty while templars pursued him.

            Out here, where he could choose to stand in the cold mud, no one chased him. No one demanded he pray for forgiveness, simply because he’d been born a mage. Out here, he could conjure a small fire at his fingertips to warm his stiff hands. But he did not. He wanted to feel. Not because he was afraid of going back to a place where feeling was all but forbidden, but because he could savor it. Enjoy it.

            Before this moment he’d always had to wonder when it would end. And yes, he could die tonight, but at the same time, there was also the chance that he would survive. If he survived, he wanted his first memories of freedom to be this sense of peace and quiet acceptance; not fear and doubt.

            Behind him, he heard the faint clang of the blacksmith’s anvil. Smoke from the forges mingled with the fog. Voices floated on the air. Back in the keep soldiers would be lining up for dinner and the new Warden Commander would be preparing the Joining ritual. The keep proper still needed some fixing up, but Anders had no doubt that it would serve as an excellent post for the fledgling Warden order in Ferelden. And the best part of all, he could leave the confines of Vigil’s Keep whenever he wanted. No templar guards. No swords at his back. No fear. Nothing in front of him but the worn road and the wide world.

            Freedom didn’t smell like dirty water and perfumed brothels. It didn’t smell like sweat and blood and gasps for breath. It smelled like this: like fresh, unspoiled nature. And maybe a bit like dinner wafting from the kitchens, over the ramparts and out to the pine grove just beyond the walls.

            Anders shook the droplets of mist out of his hair and tucked the loose strands behind his ears. He’d exchanged his Circle robes for breeches and a shirt and cloak. He smiled; the Circle wouldn’t be able to tell him how to dress anymore, either. Sure, the Grey Wardens probably had uniforms, or would eventually once the Ferelden order was more established. But for now, he could wear whatever he wanted. Eat whatever and whenever he wanted. Smell more than the dank stones and sadness that permeated the walls of his prison in the middle of Lake Calenhad.

            _I could die in a few hours_ , he thought as he trudged back toward the gate, taking the long way around the perimeter of the wall. He did not intend to be summoned; he’d had enough of that in his life. He took his time, step by step, gazing at the misty sky and enjoying the simple fact that he was out of door and not running for his life. His life was his own, if just for a few minutes.

            He entered the main yard and passed by the blacksmith and the training grounds, which were emptying of trainees. A couple of people nodded in greeting as he passed, and Anders enjoyed the simple fact that he was acknowledged as a person. Not just a mage, but an actual person.

            Anders headed for section of the Keep that had been designated a dining hall. He was ravenous, and the smell of dinner cooking made his stomach rumble and his mouth water. It smelled like a hot meal on a cold night, like people sitting around a table because they chose to be there with one another. And this time, when he smelled damp stone, it was damp because of the mist and the rain and snow and the ocean air, and it smelled like something he’d never thought he’d ever smell.

            It smelled like freedom, even if just for a few moments.


End file.
